


Wandering Corridors

by LittleHidingPo



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, Self-Insert, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleHidingPo/pseuds/LittleHidingPo
Summary: I don't want to exist. But I do, here on Horde Prime's ship.Maybe here, someone can cast out my shadows.
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote to vent a little depression angsting. I hope I continue it, as it was cathartic to write, and I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort.
> 
> CW for suicidal ideation. No planning or attempts depicted--the ideas are vague and existential, not specific.

I walked until I found the smallest, darkest corner of the ship. Which is to say, I walked until my stomach rumbled and my feet hurt. Really, the corridor I stopped in was just as brightly lit and cavernous as every other identical corridor I had passed through to get here. Apparently, Prime’s Light shining everywhere was meant to be literal.

So now I’m here, crouched in a hallway, too nervous to try any of the nearby rooms and far too lost to find the one assigned as my quarters. I only want to find somewhere dark, small, hidden. In lieu of that, I make myself small, hide my face in my arms, and squash myself as tightly as I can against the wall.  _ If I can’t see anyone, they can’t see me _ , my very logical brain tells me.

I don’t know how long I will stay here. There’s no day/night cycle on this ship. Nothing marks the passing of time. In this most private place I can find, I let my morbid thoughts wash over me. Perhaps I’ll starve, wither away into a skeleton for some hapless clone to find one day. That would be nice. Not for the clone, I’m sure, but they don’t seem to flinch at much. What’s one piece of debris to clear away from Lord Prime’s immaculate flagship?

_ I want to stop existing. _

Footsteps. Fuck.

I don’t know what to do, so I do nothing. I press my forehead harder to my knees and imagine defensive spikes lashing out from my little bubble of despair.  _ This is a dangerous thing. Do not touch it. _ If I emanate enough sheer displeasure, this person will merely skirt around me and leave me be.

_~~ Please notice me. Help.  
~~ No. Don’t trouble anyone. _

The footsteps stop nearby. I can’t look up to see if they’re watching me.

_~~Help me.~~ Leave me alone. _

~~_ Tell me it will be okay. _ ~~

_ GO AWAY. _

“Little one, are you all right?”

Fuck.

My breath catches, and I hold it. I’m not moving, I’m not existing, this is humiliating to be found like this, what have I done--

“Little one?”

I manage to squeak, “S-sorry. Im fine. Don’t mind me.”

A pause. “You do not seem ‘fine.’ Are you injured?”

“No.”

“Are you lost?”

Well… “I think so.”

“These halls can only be navigated by those who are connected to the hivemind. You should not be out of your chambers without an escort.” The chiding is gentle, yet I still feel as if I have been struck for disobedience.

“Sorry,” I say again.

Another pause. Then, “Are you certain you are not injured? You hold yourself like a wounded creature. I can bring medical attention here to you.”

“No! No, I’m not hurt.” This is so awkward, me refusing to look at him. It must be one of the clones, with his talk of the hivemind and that voice that is so similar to his Lord’s and yet not quite so… resonant. But I feel some of the tension in me slipping away.

I swallow and force myself to look up at him.

He’s bending over me, much closer than I had thought. His face shows only mild curiosity--the clones tend not to emote much in the first place. I must really be a sight. 

I take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. You must be busy. Please don’t take time from your duties for me.”

“My brother has already taken my place at my previous post. My current duty is to assist Lord Prime’s guest in any way necessary.”

“Nothing is ‘necessary,’” I say, looking down and clenching my Horde-issued robes in my fists. “I’m fine.”

Once again, a long pause. Is he waiting for me to say more? Just leave!

At length, he says, “We are still analyzing human behavior. It is part of your culture, is it not, to hide one’s suffering? To say one is ‘fine’ when really that is not the case?”

“You’re not wrong…”

“Then I cannot accept your answer. You are an esteemed guest of Horde Prime; if you are suffering, then it is my duty to find a way to cast it out.”

It’s something I’ve heard the clones say before.  _ Cast out the shadows. _ I thought it was metaphorical, so that Prime’s “Light,” his ideology, could shine through. Is there more to it?

“Can you?” I asked. “If I have suffering in… in my mind. Can that be cast out so easily?” I looked up at him, trying not to seem hopeful.

He gives me a small smile, and I feel my heart beat. “‘Easy’ may not be the most accurate word. But Prime’s Blessing will bring Peace to all, one day. You who are already bathed in His Light should have Peace. If that is not the case, then it is my obligation to guide you to it.” He holds out a hand.

I look at it. He waits patiently. I’m afraid if I touch him I won’t be able to let go. I haven’t had someone else hold me in so long, even just by the hand. I’m too neurotic to bother anyone with such things. No one would  _ want _ to touch me. I’m not close enough to anyone anymore for such intimacy.

_~~He’s the one offering.~~ Only out of a sense of duty. ~~Even so, you can’t sit in this hallway forever. Let him guide you to your room, at least.~~ _

Right. It’s just to get back to my room. That’s all.

His dusky blue hand engulfs mine. I let him pull me to my feet.


	2. Chapter 2

I do  _ not _ hold his hand. He helps me up and withdraws politely. That's all. If the brief contact was, for just a moment, a balm to my heart, well, that's all I should expect of him.

We walk in what I try to convince myself is companionable, not awkward, silence. I want to fill it, but i can't think of words that don't sound like ignorant questions or vapid small talk. I do, in fact, have many questions--about the Velvet Glove and it's mind-boggling size, about the clones and their culture, about the mysterious Emperor I've only seen from afar.

But I choke on my words, even as I distract myself trying to form inquiries that might pass as coming from someone knowledgeable, not naive. By the time we stop in front of a door, I'm glad to just end the encounter, blast my foolish need for contact.

But when my escort swipes the door open, what I see is not my bedroom. It is instead a long hall parallel to the one we just exited that stretches endlessly both left and right. The air buzzes with the sound of robots that zip from station to station, transporting boxes and receiving items that pop from the wall. The bots are blurs of white, and it’s all so fast that I can hardly see whatever it is they carry. 

My escort pulls up a panel made of light and types a command into the floating interface. A squat, cubic bot breaks from the flow of activity and putters to a stop in front of us. A pedestal rises from its center, and on it is a… brooch? It’s round and white with a Horde-green diamond inset in the center.

“A new tool to facilitate Prime’s reach across the cosmos,” says my escort. He carefully plucks up the thing between two fingers, and shows me the other side. Six armatures are folded away neatly against the back. I’m still not sure what I’m looking at, and look up at the clone with a confused frown. “It is a device for quelling rebellious thoughts,” he explains. “Used to humanely guide those who might resist His Light and introduce them to the hivemind. It has already proven effective in peacefully ending rebel uprisings.” He takes my hand and places the device in my palm. “Its applications are not limited to the front lines,” he continues with a gentle squeeze of my hand. “Perhaps it can sooth the parts of you that resist Peace.”

I swallow, resisting the urge to squeeze his hand back. Instead I examine the device more closely, but there’s not much to it. It really would make a fine piece of simple jewelry. “How does it work?”

“By placing it on the back of the neck, it allows Lord Prime access to a body’s brain and nervous system. Should He have the need, He could even assume direct control over it. We can only hope for such an honor, of course.”

“Of course,” I echo, though I feel uneasy. Horde Prime, in my head? Surely He’d be disgusted by one look at my inadequate mind. “I’m… not sure,” I admit.

The clone’s ear twitches. He seems surprised, I think. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for such an honor,” I say quickly. “Is there a way to… I don’t know… prepare my mind for something like this?”

“There is a cleansing ritual. Though it is normally reserved for making pure the corrupt and it can be… intense.” His perfect demeanor is marred for a moment, just the slightest hitch in his voice. “I do not believe you are in need of such a procedure.” He gives me a small smile, and my heart even flutters. “You are not impure. You are simply lost. This chip can help guide your mind back where it belongs.

When I still hesitate --  _ my dumb, slow-witted, selfish mind exposed to Him?  _ \-- the clone closes my hand over the chip. “You do not have to decide now. Keep it. When you are ready, simply give it a tap, like so,” he demonstrates with a claw tip, and the chip’s arms unfold, until it sits in my hand like a metal spider. “Then, place it at the base of your skull. It will settle in on its own. You may feel a pinch as it connects to your nervous system, but otherwise it is painless.” He places his hand on my cheek, and I jerk my head up, blushing. “You have been through enough pain, little one. We would not put you through more.”

His glowing green eyes and gentle smile are comforting. Far more familiar and loving than I’m prepared for. My tongue ties into knots and gape stupidly. “Uh. I. Th-thank you?”

He beams, and I wither. “Anything for a devoted one of Prime’s Light. Now, shall we find your room?”


End file.
